Doing What's Right
by PlagueRatEchelonKilljoy
Summary: John comes home to find Mycroft and Sherlock in a rather compromising position. Naturally he is confused and angered by the situation, and Sherlock must fight hard not to lose his brother as John's words threaten to break them. Er... a little OOC. Rated M because incest and I'm paranoid. Nothing particularly sexual, but it's very clearly implied.
1. Chapter 1

John entered the flat and sighed when he saw the pieces of a suit and dressing gown strewn across the living room floor. He was getting sick of cleaning up after his flatmate, and had finally reached the end of his- rather impressively long- tether. Slamming the front door closed he stormed over to Sherlock's room and threw the door open with a bang.

"SHER-" John stopped short, staring open-mouthed as Sherlock and Mycroft sprang apart. Mycroft instantly pulled the covers up over his naked form, blushing furiously and staring ahead at John, yet not quite meeting his eye. _Bloody good job too_ John thought.

Sherlock, however, was the definition of calm.

"I wasn't expecting you home until tomorrow." He remarked, gazing almost blankly at John. He didn't even bother to cover up, as John had seen it all before whilst patching him up after cases. Apparently John thought this was different though as he threw a blanket at Sherlock.

"Yeah, I can see that! So what? I was out and... and..." John didn't even know what to say, he was shocked, confused, and appalled. "Does this happen every time I'm out?!" He asked, forcing images of the two of them in other areas of the flat out of his mind. Mycroft shifted on the bed, making a move to get up, dressed, and leave. Sherlock stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and a shake of his head.

"No John, this is the first time Mycroft and I have taken this step in our relationship." He explained calmly.

"Relationship?! He's your _brother_ Sherlock." John hissed, absolutely incredulous.

"Oddly enough I am in fact aware that Mycroft is my brother John. I fail to see how that makes any difference whatsoever." Sherlock stated, a little less calm now. Mycroft was getting more uncomfortable by the second, and Sherlock was becoming fearful that John would be able to convince him of how _wrong_ this was. After all the effort it had taken him to convince his brother that it was so _right_.

"Fail to... you can't be serious? Sherlock, it's incest! It's just... wrong!" John stammered, unable to comprehend how anyone- even Sherlock- could be so socially inept. Mycroft sat up once again, pulling the covers tight around himself to avoid any further embarrassment.

"Brother, John's right. We shouldn't have-"

"No!" Sherlock leaped to his feet, pulling on his shorts in the hopes that John would take him more seriously. He spun to face his brother, silently pleading him to stay. Mycroft's eyes flicked between Sherlock and the door before he finally sagged back into the pillows, muttering about how wrong this was.

Sherlock then wheeled to face John, glaring dangerously. "You will _not_ take this from me John." He snarled. "You're supposed to be my friend."

"I am your bloody friend!" John defended. "But he's your brother. How can you think this is okay? And _you_" he turned on Mycroft "_you_ should know better. How could you allow this to happen? How could you do this to him?!" Mycroft's expression was a mix of shame and guilt.

"John I-"

"Mycroft! Don't you _dare_ turn back on me now!" Sherlock yelled, his voice somehow both pleading and commanding. Mycroft instantly snapped his mouth shut, having never seen his brother quite so desperate. Once again Sherlock turned on John. "My brother has done _nothing_ I didn't ask of him." He explained first of all, refusing to allow John to blame Mycroft for any of this. "So tell me John, why is this so... wrong?" He spat the word as though it left a foul taste in his mouth.

"Because he's your brother." John repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. Both of their voices were slightly lower now, more serious.

"And what does that mean exactly? We share the same parents, similar physical and personality traits, and we know each other better than anyone else ever will." Sherlock offered Mycroft a small smile before turning back to John. Mycroft didn't return the smile, fighting every instinct that told him to leave the room _now_.

"Yeah, yeah it means all of that I guess. And yeah you're supposed to be close, but as brothers Sherlock, not as... _this_." John waved his hands in their general direction, unsure quite how to describe what this was. And not really wanting to think about it too much.

"And why is that?" Sherlock queried as he advanced on John. "You still haven't given me a legitimate reason for why Mycroft and I can't be together. Whereas I can give you several as to why we should." He stopped a few inches away from John and folded his arms in front of his chest, waiting. John stared at him in disbelief, and Mycroft sat forward just a little.

"Him being your brother_is_ a legitimate reason Sherlock. It's wrong, it always has been, and it always will be." John attempted to explain. Mycroft sighed, finally standing.

"Once again John is right brother. We shouldn't have done this, and we certainly can't do it again." He shook his head as he pulled the covers tighter around himself, looking truly regretful as he stepped toward the door. Sherlock saw this an exploded with rage and fear.

"NO! He's not right! It's not a bloody reason!" He screamed, terrified that everything he had worked so hard for was falling down around him. Mycroft stilled by the door as Sherlock rounded on John, eyes ablaze with fury even as they shimmered with tears. "How could you?!" He bellowed, causing John to step back in shock.

"How-" He tried, but Sherlock cut him off.

"You're supposed to be my _best friend_, so why, _why_ are you so determined to see me miserable?"

"Sherlock I'm not-"

"Yes you are!I was actually _happy_, and you've gone and taken that from me!" Sherlock's vice shook, his tears starting to fall despite his best effort. He didn't want to cry in front of John, but he couldn't stop himself. John made to move toward his friend, but Sherlock held up a hand and stumbled backward.

Mycroft was glued to the spot by the door, staring at his little brother. He was utterly torn. He wanted nothing more than to go to Sherlock, to hold him and kiss him, to make everything better. Yet he also knew that John had a point; what they were doing was so very wrong. Hell, it was _illegal_. So he stayed in his place, silently battling with himself while Sherlock continued to berate John through his tears.

"Mycroft made me truly happy, for the briefest period. He's the only one who has ever understood me, the one man I've ever loved. And _you_ drove him away." Sherlock collapsed back on the bed, his head falling into his hands.

"Sherlock I-"

"I don't want to hear it John, just leave." Sherlock muttered. John had never seen Sherlock looking so broken. He gave him one last sad look before shoving passed Mycroft and leaving, just as the wave of guilt overtook him.


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft remained by the door for a few moments before he felt the tears running down his own cheeks. Finally he shook himself free of his internal struggles, the sight of his brother in such a state breaking through any nonsense thoughts about what was considered right. This was _Sherlock_, it didn't matter what anyone else thought. Sherlock's words had reduced him to tears, and he knew he couldn't possibly go back to how they'd been before. He gingerly sat beside Sherlock on the bed.

"Brother I-"

"If you're going to leave brother _dear_ just do it." Sherlock droned, not looking up at made Mycroft flinch, but he didn't move from his position on the bed.

"I have no intention of leaving." He informed, his voice quiet out of fear it might shake. Sherlock lifted his head, gazing at Mycroft with bloodshot eyes.

"You don't?" He asked, eyes flicking over Mycroft quickly. He saw the silent tears slipping down Mycroft's cheeks, the utterly heartbroken expression on his features. "You don't." He repeated, his surety clear. "Why? You agreed with him. You said it was wrong. You cared more about the idiotic public's opinion than _our_ happiness."

"No Sherlock. I care more about public opinion than my happiness." Mycroft corrected, taking both of Sherlock's hands in his left, his right brushing a stray curl from Sherlock's face. Sherlock allowed this, waiting for the rest of Mycroft's speech, because he clearly wasn't finished."If I had know how distraught you would have been I would never even have considered leaving. I want to be with you Sherlock, but my happiness doesn't matter to me. I cannot risk my career for a chance at happiness." He tenderly stroked Sherlock's cheek. "But for your happiness? I would risk everything."

Sherlock looked shocked, awed even, yet still confused.

"But if you didn't want this enough to risk your job..." Mycroft cut him off before he could finish.

"I want nothing more, but I was unsure how much you wanted this... me." Sherlock squeezed Mycroft's hand at that, but allowed him to continue. "I thought it would be better... easier even... to leave now. I had hoped we would be able to return to how we had been. Better to do it before I fell in love with you, and you changed your mind. I couldn't risk my job only to find that you no longer wanted this, and I had nothing left." Mycroft paused for breath, and Sherlock spoke before he could finish.

"Oh. I see." He pulled away from Mycroft, causing Mycroft to realise what his brother must be thinking and sigh.

"Let me finish." He requested with a small smile. Sherlock obediently sat quietly, not entirely sure he wanted to hear the rest anymore. "As I was saying, I thought it would be easier for both of us if this ended before I fell for you." Sherlock flinched, and Mycroft did his best to ignore it, forcing himself to finish. "I couldn't bear the thought of having to lose you after that, but it doesn't matter. It's far too late for that."

"Mycroft you really needn't finish. You've made your point." Sherlock interrupted yet again, fighting back more tears.

"No I haven't." Mycroft persisted, irritated at his own lack of skills in this area. He was always so eloquent, always knew exactly what to say, and precisely the right intonation. Yet here he was floundering at the one point he needed it the most. "Once again, as I was _saying_, it is too late for any of that now. I can't leave. I _tried_ to leave, but I simply can't do it, because I've already fallen for you." Finally Mycroft was finished, and Sherlock gaped at him. Everything the elder Holmes had said was pointing toward the exact opposite of his confession.

"You've fallen in love with me? _That's_ what you've been trying to tell me?" He sounded completely shocked, relieved, and just a tiny bit amused. Mycroft inclined his head, stroking through Sherlock's curls.

"Yes brother dear That is what I was so inarticulately attempting to tell you. I love you." Sherlock chuckled, pulling Mycroft into his arms. Each brother wrapped his arms tight around the other, both heaving sighs of relief.

"I love you too dear brother. I truly do, but if you're ever so ineloquent again I may have to beat you with your own umbrella." They both laughed, eyes shining with happiness once again, even though they were both emotionally worn out. Leaning forward at the same time their lips met in a tender kiss, and they held each other close. They lay back on the bed, Mycroft untangling himself from the covers so he could wrap them around himself and Sherlock.

They fell asleep like that, holding each other tight, their faces so close their noses touched just barely. Neither of them would ever let the other go. They belonged to each other now, and that was exactly as it should be. It was so very right.


End file.
